August 2011

It’s not like I’m one of those morbidly obese people who can’t sit in airplane seats.

It’s not like I’m dying or anything.

Or maybe this:

I should be glad I even have a job.

Anything is better than being alone.

I shouldn’t complain–other people have it a lot worse than I do.

If anything in the above sounds even remotely familiar, this is for you:

It is that bad. In fact, it’s completely unacceptable. I don’t even have to know you to know that whether your suffering is small and made of constant erosion or huge and overwhelmingly intense, you deserve better.

Sound familiar? If you find yourself nodding your head, I feel your pain. I’m guessing saying yes all the time leaves you exhausted and feeling vaguely taken advantage of. It feels, in a word, crappy. Am I right?

So what is it we think we’re getting when we say yes? Usually, we want to be liked. We want to be agreeable. Trained from the age of scouting that being helpful is a virtue above all others, we may even consider the act of standing up for ourselves and saying no somehow grotesquely selfish.

The thing is, when we say yes when we really want—even need—to say no, we don’t just hurt ourselves, we end up hurting the very people we think we’re helping. Because everyone, eventually, has a limit. Back in my days of 24/7 acquiescence, I was strung tighter than an overtuned banjo string. Eventually, inevitably, I’d snap—and anyone nearby, no matter how innocent a bystander, would feel the pain.